


Case Study:  Loki of Asgard

by Dillian



Category: Fantastic Four, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Doom's Jealousy, F/M, Loki Fucks with Tony, Loki Gets to Fuck with two Lovers at Once, Loki Getting Spanked, M/M, Mind-Fuck, Multi, No Make That Three, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Tony's Shame, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillian/pseuds/Dillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki escapes from Odin's imprisonment, he returns to Earth and takes temporary residence with Victor von Doom.  He is there for revenge against The Avengers, Doom is very sure of it, but why then, does he ignore Hulk, the Avenger most responsible for his earlier defeat?  Why does he turn his attention to the other one, Tony Stark, instead?</p>
<p>This was going to be a pure and simple, Loki-fucks-with-Tony kind of a story, only Loki needed a place to stay, and the Latverian Embassy seemed convenient.  Now it gets to be a Loki-fucks-with-Tony-and-Doom story instead.</p>
<p>Also, it contains explicit scenes of vorophilia, so if that bothers you, please stay away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Playing Host to a Trickster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor von Doom has a visitor, a visitor who is sure to prove profitable.

“My back to the wall,   
A victim of laughing chance.   
This is for me,   
The essence of true romance.   
Sharing the things we know and love   
With those of my kind   
Libations,   
Sensations,   
That stagger the mind. 

I crawl like a viper,   
Through these suburban streets.   
Make love to these women,   
Languid and bittersweet.   
I'll rise when the sun goes down,   
Cover every game in town.   
A world of my own   
I'll make it my home sweet home.”  
– Steely Dan, “Deacon Blues”

**_The Avengers_ , _Iron Man_ , and _The Fantastic Four_ , and all situations and characters thereof, belong strictly and solely to Marvel Comics. This is a fan-work, meant for enjoyment only, and not for any material profit.**

_Loki_ : An extra-terrestrial being. He calls himself a “god”, but there are no gods, of course. There are beings of greater, and lesser power, there are the souls of those beings, that sometimes survive death. That is all, anything further is the metaphysical speculation of simpletons. The Being Loki is of a race far more powerful and long-lived than humanity, a race, moreover, which possesses certain magical powers, intrinsic in its very heritage. These powers, Loki has added to, moreover, through studies of his own. That is all, however. They are no gods, and not even immortal, as they pretend.

Loki came to Earth with one who called himself his “brother”, although they are actually of two, unrelated races. The Being Thor is of a different race from Loki, a race of greater physical power, but without the magic intrinsic to Loki's own race. These beings too, call themselves “gods”, and it is amusing to consider that, in earlier centuries, ignorant humans used actually to believe their claims. It takes small research to find the imprint of these claims in human history: The Being Thor, so-called “god” of storms and thunder, has given his name to the fourth day of the week in many languages, including Doom's own, and, through the trees that were dedicated to him throughout much of Europe, he can be considered originator of the Christmas Tree tradition as well.

Loki, for his part, has left less of an imprint. There are no days associated with him, no holiday traditions that can be traced to celebrations in his honor. Perhaps this is part-reason for his jealousy toward his “brother” Thor: Less-regarded here on Earth, he is, perhaps, less-regarded in the realm of his upbringing as well. He was, after all, raised as Thor's younger brother, and younger siblings frequently feel themselves in the shadow of the elder.

Jealous he is, at any rate, and jealous he was, and it was this jealousy that led him into mishap, when he tried, first to destroy his brother with a giant robotic monster, and then to take over the Earth, at the head of an army of beings called the Chitauri. 

Doom has been aware of Loki since his first visit to Earth. Doom pays attention to these things: The robotic monster that came so close to destroying the town of Gallup, New Mexico, in its attempt on Thor's life, was powered by no discernible technology. It was powered, Doom theorizes, through magic, a magic of which he currently has no knowledge (but further research may change this). It was, actually, superior in effectiveness to the army of the Chitauri, who were weak and easily killed individually, powerful only through their great numbers, and, who fell all as one, when Stark sent a nuclear weapon into their realm, and destroyed their central power source.

After the defeat of the Chitauri, Loki returned to his own realm... Or, for accuracy is important here, he returned, rather, to the realm of his raising, to Asgard, where the king, Odin, attempted to use Asgardian means, to restrain one who was not Asgardian. He was successful, but for the short term only, having failed no doubt, to give full consideration to the difference in races between his own people and Loki's. His methods were crude, and designed to restrain great strength, such as the Asgardians possess. Loki, as a being of magic however, soon found a way around them, and was free again and, once free, he returned to Earth.

This, Doom hypothesizes, is because of his defeat at the hands of The Avengers. After one has been momentarily bested, it is only rational to study the means and methods of one's victors, the better to defeat them in the next encounter. Certainly, Doom has put in his own time, studying the strengths and strategies of the accursed Richards. Loki has returned to do the same, undoubtedly and, undoubtedly, he has already pinpointed the creature that was most instrumental in his defeat, the monstrous alter-ego of the scientist Banner, known as the Hulk. Why then, however, does he give his attention to Tony Stark instead?

__________________________

Loki is a being of huge, but unspoken vanity. He has a birth form, a form of great power, and strange, exotic beauty and yet, having been raised to view this form as inferior, he eschews it. He has, in his Asgardian form, long, dark hair, that ripples, when uncombed, and falls over his smooth, pale shoulders, like the foliage of a young birch tree. Yet, out of vanity, he does not allow his hair to hang naturally, but enchants it upon rising, every morning, to hang as flat and straight as possible. These vanities intrigue. They are his weaknesses, the chinks, as it were, in an armor that might otherwise seem impregnable. They “humanize” Loki (a phrasing which would, Doom knows, annoy him most horribly). If one would please him, one plays to these, and ignores his underlying weaknesses with all vigor.

So far, it has suited Doom to please his guest. Loki came here shortly after arrival, on his second visit to Earth. He came, with a smooth and lying story of wishing to do Doom a “favor”, to ally, so he said, with the greatest power on the planet, in pursuit of benefit for them both. He lied, of course, but what else does one expect of a being known as a Trickster-God? His deception is transparent enough, and a deception known, is no deception. Loki is here to win victory in his second encounter with The Avengers, and he will give Doom what he thinks necessary to achieve his own ends. If he gives more, it will be due to Doom's own machinations. Since Doom is quite good at machinations, this is a pleasing prospect.

The time, evening. The scene, the living quarters of the Latverian Embassy, in downtown Manhattan. The end of a profitable day. Negotiations: The Social, Humanitarian and Cultural Committee of the United Nations, so _very_ suggestible. Conversations about investment, with a few choice American corporations. Dinner: The fish was wild-caught salmon, the beef grass-fed and pungent. The wine was from Doom's own vineyard in Latveria. Dessert is Loki, the Trickster in a relaxed mood, after a day spent in his own pursuits.

And he curls on the sofa. That trick of his, of going about naked: – In response to the warm climate of New York in September, he says. – It is pleasing, and of no consequence, in an establishment where all the servants are robotic. “My day was enjoyable.” His voice is well-modulated, musical. “Come, Victor.” Teasing curl of Trickster-fingers. “Come sit here with me, and tell how your own day went.”

Trickster-smile, smooth, relaxed Trickster-face, and his green eyes, dappled with golden light. “Let your hair go natural,” Doom says. “You are more beautiful that way.”

Trickster-chuckle. “Remove your armor, Victor. You are more beautiful that way.”

He is not. “The armor represents the highest achievement of my mind, Loki, and does not a man's greatest beauty lie in his mind, rather than in the mere, physical being, that he shares with the animals?”

“And yet you enjoy it so, when I show my own animal form.” Raised Trickster-hand (the nails, black-painted, vulnerability showing in the bitten edges). “Shall I remove the armor myself?”

He will not. “A concession for a concession, Trickster. I will remove the armor, and you will show yourself in Jotun form.”

Now a true laugh. “How I love it when you negotiate. Come, Victor.” Naked Trickster-body, a body clothed in nothing but the illusion that this is his true form. And he rises, and takes Doom's hands. “Come to the sofa... Nay, to the bedroom. We will enjoy each other, and I have to make the room as dark as a pit to ensure it.”

And they will, but not yet. “The hair? Give me that, and I will remove what is necessary... _When_ it becomes necessary.”

And that is in the bedroom, and they are there soon enough. And it is dark, but Doom's fingers have not lost their sensitivity. He can feel by the contours of Loki's face, that he is in Asgardian form. He can tell by how his hair curls around his fingers, that he has allowed it to relax to its natural state. Their bodies touch, they merge, and it is mouth against mouth, flesh against flesh. Doom's nose is filled with the spicy scent of the Trickster, pine forests, and cinnamon, and cloves. His tongue savors the taste of him, the faint sourness of the wine that lingers in his mouth, and the salt-taste and tang of the other places he explores. And the sound is whispers and moans, and the creaking of the bed underneath them. And they are satisfied, both of them are satisfied, or as much so as either of them allows himself to get ever.

And after a long while, when they are done, they lie together. And Loki's hair tickles the skin of Doom's unarmored face, and his flesh is warm against Doom's own flesh. And in the interval between wakefulness and sleep, Doom makes light comment: “You are cheerful tonight, Trickster.”

Soft chuckle, a soft, sleepy chuckle. “I conducted an experiment today, Victor, while you were out.”

Unexpected disclosure. “An experiment? And do you care to tell me what it was?”

And the very expected refusal, coming in the pleasing form of a shake of the Trickster's head, which sends his curls against Doom's face again, releases anew, the scent of pine and cloves. “It is of no matter to you, Victor.”


	2. Dream-Tony and his Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a visitor, a visitor who does things he doesn't want to think about.

Okay, so the story begins with this Psychology student he dated when he was in college. This Psych major, she was like 20, and he was 17. She's like, “There must be something wrong with me psychologically. You're so young, and I'm still so attracted to you,” and he's like, “That's just the old Stark magic. – Come on, do you have to talk about that _right now_?” But that's how she was, always over-analyzing everything. And anyway, while they were dating she said this thing: She said one time, how when you're dreaming, it's actually your mind working out its own inner conflicts. Nothing in the dream really represents what it looks like, it's actually something else, something inside your own mind, and you're trying to work it out... Or it was something like that, anyway.

This is the _only_ way to explain what he dreamed last night. There is no fuckin' way that any of it could really represent what it seemed like it represented. For one thing, it was _Loki_. As in, Reindeer-Games, I'm-Going-to-Take-Over-Your-Planet-with-my-Army-of-Mindless-Aliens-Why-Don't-You-all-Bow-Down-Before-Me-Bitches, Loki. As in, We-Whipped-Your-Ass-You-Pathetic-Little-Motherfucker, Loki, and what is he coming around for now? In his _dream_?

Well obviously, his mind is trying to deal with some kind of serious conflict right now, probably having to do with having flown through that wormhole ~~(and seeing what was on the other side, oh god, oh jesus christ, what was on the other side, you know the only time he ever feels sorry for that little motherfucker, is when he remembers that Loki's seen it too)~~ and almost fuckin' _died_. There's a lot of guys that would have gone nuts after something like that, and if all that happened to him is he had a dream, he's got to say, he came off pretty good.

Even if it did involve Loki. And him. Having... No, it didn't involve them having sex, it fuckin' didn't. You know he could deal with that? He could almost the fuck deal with that? No, this one was worse, this one... Well fortunately, he's forgotten how most of it went:

Okay, see first, he's in bed. He's in his own bed, and there's somebody next to him. And he thinks, “Well, it's Pepper. She got back early, from her trip to Virginia, she didn't want to wake me up when she got in.” ...Somebody _warm_ , next to him, and soft, and totally-the-fuck naked. 

Nice, to be next to someone naked in bed, and when you cuddle up to them, they turn around and they cuddle you back. And at first he ignores the things that ought to tell him this isn't Pepper. He ignores the fact that this body is too long, and too bony, and besides, the hair feels all curly against his face, and Pepper's hair isn't curly, and her hair doesn't smell like pine forests and clove-apples either. It's just so good to have someone there again... To have her there... She thought for sure she wasn't going to be able to get back until the weekend.

And then somewhere, while he's not-noticing who it really is, that's when... That's when Little Tony... Okay, he gets an erection, all right? It's what happens when a guy's used to being with someone every night... When a guy that used to be pretty much of a playboy, and now he's settled down into a committed relationship, and he has to go a few days without his girlfriend now and then. It wouldn't mean anything, even if it hadn't happened in a dream. Which it did.

...Anyway, that wasn't the most fucked-up part of the dream. If it was...

Well, so Little Tony wakes up, and he's ready for action the way he always is, and Big Tony doesn't bother opening his eyes, because you don't, when you know who's in bed with you, am I right here? You just reach out and you grab her. And then she grabs you back...

She/ _He_ grabs you back, because maybe you're not quite as able to hide what's really going on from yourself any more as you pretend you are. But you still try as hard as you can anyway.

She/He, grabs you back... She/He/Loki... And his mouth is against your mouth, and his tongue is against your tongue. His tongue tastes spicy too, and he is very, very good at using it.

And then Tony's eyes come open. He sees who it really is, and of course that's when he knows this has to be a dream, because Loki is back in Asgard, there's no fuckin' way he could be here. And so then he relaxes. He's like, “Well, if I'm going to have dream-sex, I might as well enjoy it.”

And he does, or he does at first, anyway. And Loki's dream-tongue goes everywhere. It goes all over his face, and down his throat. – And Dream-Tony's got his head up, and he buries his face in Loki's hair, and enjoys the spiciness of it. And he dream-thinks, “You know, Pepper should start washing her hair with whatever this stuff is that Loki uses. – And Loki's dream-tongue finds his chest, and his nipples, and it sends little dream-shivers all over Tony's dreaming body.

And oh god, oh god, down it goes across his stomach... And oh jesus christ, there's that tongue of his all over his balls and his dick. All over his _hard_ dick... “Tony,” Dream-Loki breathes.

And, “Hmm?” says Dream-Tony.

“Tony,” soft whisper of warm, Dream-Loki breath, against the cool wetness left by his mouth, all over Dream-Tony's dick. “Do you want me to _eat_ you, Tony?”

And what the fuck are you going to say? I mean, what the fuck, right? You're going to say what Dream-Tony said, what Dream-Tony's dream-dick told him to say. You're going to say, “Yes, Loki, oh yes _please_ , Loki!”

And it's going to start, it's going to fuckin' start. And then there's going to be more of it. There's going to be a warm mouth around your dick, a warm tongue, that gives teasing little licks all over your balls. There's going to be little nibbles, and little nips. And then... Then, oh jesus, fuckin' christ!

Okay, that's when it started to get fucked-up. That's when it stopped being a joke. Then, when he came, and it was bigger, and more intense than it ever is with Pepper. Well how long has it been anyway, since he had a wet-dream? Like, almost 30 years, right? And he's having one now? About _Loki_?

...Okay no, that's not the fucked-up part. It's not the really fucked-up part. If it were just that... ~~Tony wishes it were just that.~~ If it had just been that...

This is where that girl back in college, that one that said everything in your dreams is really just your unconscious mind trying to work things out from your daily life... She's like, she's telling the truth, okay? She's telling the exact truth. That's all this was, it was just his mind trying to deal with some kind of trauma.

Lord knows he's had enough of that lately. First there was the whole thing with the invasion of New York, and right after that, there was the Mandarin. And they gave that Extremis shit to Pepper, and she ...Well, she almost _died_. You think that's not going to traumatize the people that care about her? And Hap almost died too, and he's only been friends with Hap ever since... Well Howard was still alive, the first time he met Happy.

But no, this is what happens next. And he's got his eyes open... His dream-eyes, and he sees it, he really sees it: Loki says, “Do you want me to eat you, Tony?” And he's all like, “Yeah, Loki, yeah!”

And Loki's teeth... His sharp, sharp teeth... And it hurts, but it doesn't just hurt... And how could he feel excited? I mean, how could he, after his dick was... Was _bitten right the fuck off_ , and he could see Loki chewing on it?

...And the blood was running down his chin, and all Tony felt... All he felt was excitement. And greed, and fuckin' wanting more? And he's like... No, his dream-self is like, “Loki, why don't you...”

_Why don't you keep going?_

And sharp-sharp bites... And oh god, oh christ, he can see his _flesh_... He sees his flesh, and it goes into Loki's mouth, and he can hear the _chewing_... And he can see Loki's stomach getting fuller... Getting bigger... And he's the one that's doing it, he's fuckin' inside him...

And then Loki kisses him, and he can... Well, he can taste himself on his mouth, and he tastes... He tastes like steak. And the blood runs down against both of their faces while they're kissing.

And when he wakes up, he's come. He's come, like, not just once, but a lot of times. And at first, he just lies there. He, like, lies there ~~(in a puddle of his own cum)~~ , and he thinks, “That did not just happen.”

And it didn't, of course, it was just a dream. And everyone knows, your dreams are where you work out the problems in your real life. That's all they are. But maybe he'd better see a psychiatrist or something, because that was really fucked-up.


	3. Loki's Machinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...As explained to his host, over dinner and dessert.

There is not a “friendship” between Doom and Loki. There is certainly not the kind of saccharine connection, termed by ordinary people, a “relationship”. Theirs is a professional connection, an alliance, if you will. Loki came to Doom with an objective; he needed a place to stay, a pied à terre, as it were, until he had accomplished it. Doom took him in, for a price. He asked, initially, for certain tissue samples, for use in his research. If Loki remains much longer, undoubtedly he will ask for more. It has been only a week thus far, however, and for now the samples suffice.

Doom emerges from his laboratory late on the seventh day. It is still the seventh day, he is very sure, although admittedly he has been some hours in the laboratory, having managed to accomplish a clone, from a sample of Loki's hair. The creature is still very small, barely multi-cellular, but it is _alive_ , and growing. In truth, Doom rather begrudges the bodily needs that draw him away from watching, to see how it will develop. The needs are there, however, and thus, he emerges.

He comes into the sitting room to find Loki curled on the sofa. It has grown cold in New York, the past week, and his guest is wrapped in a robe of Doom's lending, a robe of green velvet and Latverian bearskin that goes well with his pale skin and green eyes. The book in his hands is from Doom's library; it is one he has seen him with before. _Transmigration of the Soul_ : Eastern philosophy, and near useless for his own purposes. An interesting choice for an extra-terrestrial. 

Now, as he puts out his own hands, Loki holds it up to him with a smile. “I shall be hurt.” Loki's hands seem plumper, Doom notes as he takes the book. His nails are growing out a bit, too; they are long enough now, that he can see the chips in the black varnish. “I fear my only attraction for you is my library.”

“Pray, Victor, don't be like that.” The warm smile, the caressing voice, they are lies, all lies. The truth is in the cool look, that lights those green eyes of his. Loki sits up, pats the sofa next to him. “Here,” he says. “Sit with me. Tell me about your experiments.”

Doom tells no one, anything about his experiments, ever. The seat, however, he will take. His work for the day is done; he can allow himself some relaxation. Doom slips the gauntlet from his left hand, he enjoys the feel of Loki's smooth, dark hair, the curve of his warm cheek, against his own bare skin.

“I would rather hear about your experiments, Loki.” The book is still in Doom's right hand. He sets it, now, on the table in front of them. “New-Age garbage, New-Age, _human_ garbage. What is there in there, that interests you so?”

“Of all people.” Loki is like a cat. The barest touch, and he curls close, greedy for caresses. “You are the one I would expect to be able to distinguish between the gold and the dross of what your world offers.” He turns, warm lips against the bare skin of his hand. Loki does not kiss, he marks territory. “There is much in that book that is of value. You must look again, and try harder to find it, Victor.”

Cat or no, Loki's touch is a pleasure. His _scent_ is a pleasure. “But when you are done with it?” Doom's fingers have found their way between the folds of the robe now, stroking Loki's back.

Soft laugh of the Trickster. “Oh certainly, Victor. When _I_ am done with it.”

Dinner is being prepared in the kitchen, and a Doom-bot has brought wine and glasses. Doom pours now, for both of them. Loki takes the glass he offers. He gives, in return, a smile that seems almost genuine. “I find I am in a good mood tonight,” he murmurs. “Would you like to hear about my experiments, Victor?”

It is a long, and complicated story, a story that lasts, not just through the time they spend over the wine, but through dinner as well, and into the time afterward, the time that they have been spending together, in the darkened bedroom. It is... Not quite the story Doom was expecting.

“ _Stark_?” The serving fork, with the Latverian crest, spears the chicken, as Doom slices the breast neatly, serving Loki and himself. “Iron Man?”

And Loki's teeth, his neat, predatory little teeth, as he bites into his portion. “You were thinking I'd choose the beast? But Victor, there is no _intentionality_ there, just mindless violence. It attacks whatever moves. Stark...” – He smiles, and it is a predatory smile. – “He _chose_ to set himself against me. The others attacked blindly.”

“Except for your brother.” Latverian root vegetables: Loki does not partake. He is a meat-eater, like all good predators. Doom for his part, takes a double portion. 

A soft laugh from the predator. “My brother will get what's coming to him in due time. For now, I am here to see about Stark.”

...And later, dessert: A sweet, creamy dessert, for, like a good cat, Loki loves his cream. “I will destroy his intentionality...” Loki's pink tongue, against his fingers, as he licks away every last iota of the cream. ...And his smile, smile of a pleased cat, settling at the fireside, after a successful hunt. “It is his best weapon, and the one he used against me.” His own fingers clean, he takes Doom's bare hand. The feel of his tongue, his warm tongue... There was not that much cream on Doom's fingers, and none at all on his palm, where Loki's tongue goes next.

Suppressed shiver. The touch is ...intimate. “It will take a love potion, I suppose?”

“Oh, _love_.” There is no cream at all on his right hand, and yet Doom makes no protest, as Loki removes the gauntlet and nibbles, just barely, at one exposed finger. “You mortals are always on about love. As if it matters at all, as if it is how you make your decisions. ...A small aphrodisiac, and the power of suggestion.” Loki's mouth, against Doom's wrist... Against his bare wrist: When was the last time Doom allowed anyone to touch him so? “It was only the first time that I needed anything,” murmurs the Trickster. “After that, he was bound to me by our shared transgression.”

...And the perversion of it, the sheer, palpable malignity. “Never, ever, take Doom for such a fool as that, Trickster.”

Loki's soft laugh. “Oh Victor, as if I would. You are, of course, a different sort of man altogether.”

And their bodies... Their bodies meeting, not in the darkened bedroom, but on the _sofa_ , with the light from the dining room illuminating Doom's scarred face, the disfigurement of his body...

And Doom's voice: “Never forget the kind of man you are dealing with in me, Loki.”

And the murmured response, “Of course, Victor. That goes without saying.”


	4. And, Loki's Machinations Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, as machinated all over Tony's bed.

Pepper is _thrilled_ when she hears he wants to see a psychiatrist. So is Rhodey (so are way more people than Tony really likes to think about). So's pretty much everybody, if you really want to get down to it... No, wait, here's a joke: You want to know who doesn't like the idea? Made Tony laugh like hell... It was Fury. Mr. Textbook Case of Narcissism himself, and he's like, “They say you creative types are always half-crazy. Stark, I don't want you losing your creative edge.”

And he's all like, “Seriously, Director. I don't think I'm going to lose the ability to make metal suits, based on whether or not I'm spending every day waiting for Loki to come and eat me.”

No, right. Like you really thought he'd say that? That's comedy right there. No, _of course_ he doesn't say that, doesn't even think... ~~About Loki eating him. About how badly he wants it, all the time, any more.~~

_How_ many times was it... How many times had it been then? – Because it's been more times since then... It's been ~~six~~ at least three... It's not like he pays attention. – Two, maybe three... And the doc said, “The Prozac should do it, Mr. Stark. Just keep track, and the manifestations should go away.” He's like, “This is a form of OCD, and OCD responds rapidly to large doses of Prozac.” And then when that didn't work, he's all like, “Abilify, definitely Abilify.” ...And then it was Ativan. And god forbid you should ever stop taking _one_ of them, just because you've added another. 

Tony's like, “You realize I go around in a metal suit with blasters in the gloves?”

Doc's like, “Yes, well you should always wait a few hours before operating heavy machinery.”

And he's like, “Well thank you, I'll ask all the supervillains, to plan their attacks accordingly.”

Dumb-shit fucking doctor. Tony leaves the office, and he's got this good feeling. He's all like, “Well I told _him_ , the fuckin' dumbass. Good feeling, and it lasts one, maybe two minutes, and then that's when he remembers why he was there the first place.

And that's because none of the goddamn meds fuckin' _work_. None of them... He's, like, going around doped all the time. He's, like, fuckin' rattling when he moves. Three caps of Prozac, and an Abilify... Oh and wait, don't forget the fuckin' Ativan! Let's be sure and not forget that one. He's going around fuckin' _rattling_ , like the Mark 1.0's not a suit, it's a fuckin' pill bottle, and Loki's still coming. He's still-the-fuck _coming_ , every single fuckin' _day_.

...And the thing is, Tony... ~~(He wants him there.)~~ He's started to... ~~(To want him there.)~~ The _thing_ , that's making him fuckin' _crazy_ , is that he doesn't _not_ want Loki there any more. He doesn't _not_ like what he's doing. ~~(No, he just fuckin' loves it.)~~

The thing is, Pepper's not even away, she's right there asleep in their bed, every night... And the thing is, that hasn't stopped it. If he really thought... If he was still bothering to pretend that this was... ~~(That it was a dream.)~~ You want to explain why he's got the bed all made up again, down in the workroom? You want to explain why he tore all those dirty sheets off, the ones that had been there since last November, and they're all crusty with grease and metal shavings and shit... Why he's got new _sheets_ on there, new blankets, even? You want to explain why he bothered? 

...No, it's not even that. Even that's less fucked-up. No, it's that he goes there... He doesn't go there at night. Because Pep would find out about it if he wasn't in bed with her, see? Because then she might catch on to what's happening. And he's not getting any work done any more, he's not getting anything fuckin' done at all, because he's spending all day waiting... And then it's not the waiting. The waiting wouldn't make anyone crazy. It's what happens when he gets there, that matters.

And it's like, at first it's the same thing every time. It's the same fucked-up, disgusting thing... The same, Crazy God with the Reindeer Helmet, fuckin' _eats_ the Rich Guy Everyone Always Thought was a Pervert Anyway. Just like that (as if that wasn't fucked-up enough already).

Then one day it changes. And Tony's... He's in the workroom, but he's not working... Loki doesn't always come at the same time, he makes you wait. Sometimes you're down there an hour, after Pepper leaves, sometimes he makes you wait until halfway through the afternoon. – Sometimes Tony starts to get worried that he won't come until after Pepper _gets_ here, and what's fucked-up about that, is that he'll wait... If that ever happens, he'll still wait, even if it's half the night. – ...Tony's down in the workroom, and and he's... He's _naked_. ...He's lying there, fuckin' naked, and he's thinking about Loki.

And then poof, there's Mr. Green-And-Crazy himself, in the flesh. ...In the pale, slim, naked flesh. (And Tony's thinking, “He won't be so slim and pale, when he's done with me, he'll be all covered with my blood.”) ...There he is, and he's like, “Tony, did you miss me?”

And Tony's like, “No.” Pointless, yeah, because he can see it on your face, but he's like, “No.”

And Loki just laughs, and he's like, “No, not at all, of course.”

And he's like, “Of course you didn't, Tony. You didn't want it in the slightest, did you? You didn't want this...” And he's sitting, fingers trailing just lightly, across Tony's hardon. ...His slim fingers, with the sharp-sharp nails, the nails that draw blood. ~~(And that's not how Tony wants the blood drawn, oh god, not like that.)~~ He's like, “You didn't want this...” And he takes Tony's hand, bites the... What's the part called, not your palm, but below your palm... The cushiony part, where your life-line is? The _ball_ , maybe... Loki bites the ball of his hand.

...But still gently, very, very gently. And he's like, “Tell me then, Tony, what did you want?”

Tony's like, “You know, Loki.”

And Loki's like, “Yes, but I like to hear you say it.”

And Tony... Oh god, oh christ, then Tony says, “I want you to... Eat me, Loki, I want you to eat me. There...” And he touches his dick. “...And there...” His thighs. “And there...” And his stomach, where the organs are, and all the life flowing through. “I want you to eat _there_.”

And Loki gives him one sharp nip, one nip, to the ball of his hand. “Good boy,” he says. “My good pet.” ...One bite, just one, and not a very hard one. “I'm afraid that won't be enough,” Loki says. “I tire of you, Tony. What will you do to keep me interested?”

What? “I'll do...” And he's thinking, _What's the right answer? What does he want to hear?_ Tony's like, “What do you want me to do, Loki?”

And Loki's like... But no, it's just crazy. It's just too disgusting. Loki's like, “I want you to eat me.” Loki (!) is like (!) “You eat me” (!) “Tony,” he says. “This time you eat me.”

No, the disgusting part, is how fast Tony says yes. His whole body is saying, “No.” It's protesting against what he's going to do to it. ...And his mind, his mind is thinking what it's going to taste like, and how fast he's going to have to puke it back up, once it goes down. Some part of him says, “Yes,” anyway, some disgusting, perverted part.

And then Loki's naked, and he's lying on the bed, and Tony... And he...

And Loki's like, “Here, you will need this.” And then there's a knife in Tony's hand. “Your mortal flesh rips easily,” Loki says, “but I am a god.” And then Tony, he takes the knife...

And it's raw meat, you know? It's like any raw meat, like carpaccio, or tuna tartare. You go to a fancy restaurant, you'll be paying good money for that shit. You'll be gulping it down, telling yourself you've just had a treat. ...Only, you know, _not_. Only this is Loki, not some hunk of beef, done up with fancy herbs and a very fancy price-tag.

Well Tony takes the knife, and he slashes... Crazy-making image: He slashes. And the blood flows. And all the time, he is... Well, his... Well, Little Tony is getting harder and harder. ~~Vile, disgusting thought: If you think it's good being eaten, it's nothing to eating another man.~~ Foul... You think he doesn't know how that sounds? You think you can be all like, “Oh, that's so _sick_ , you're such a _pervert_ , Stark,” and he isn't saying all the same things himself?

Don't judge, if you haven't tried it. 

...And you start with the dick. That's the part that comes off easiest. You start with the dick, but you don't start right away. You make them come first, and the taste is cum and blood in your mouth. And Loki laughs up at you, he laughs... His mouth is open, and at first you think he's crying, screaming maybe, but the sounds that come out... He's definitely laughing.

And you kiss that smiling mouth, and the blood smears on his face and yours. And you eat him, like he ate you. You eat, and swallow. And your body accepts him, you don't puke him up, even if you thought you were going to.

~~_No, because you like it._~~ And you are a monster, a savage. You like it, you fuckin' like it. And you tear his flesh away in chunks, you tear it away, and you eat it, and you like it. And he just lies there, he fuckin' lies there. He laughs in your face, while his blood runs down your chin. And then when he's half gone, when you can see his bones peeking through, pale-white underneath all the blood... Then you turn him over...

You turn him over, and you fuckin' _ream_ him. You're so far up his ass you feel like your cum is going to spray right out his mouth. It'll spray out his mouth, blood mixed with cum, and his teeth will be smeared with it... And when you kiss him, the taste will be you and him. You'll taste your cum and his blood, in his open mouth.

...Has he mentioned, this all happened, like around 9:30 in the morning? It happened in the morning... Fuck, Pepper only left, like 8:00, maybe 7:30. By 9:30, he was banging Loki, in the middle of a bed drenched in his fuckin' _blood_. First he tore him apart, and then he fucked what was left.

And you know, half the time he was doing it, he's thinking, “I'll never eat again.” The other half of the time, he's thinking, “I could go for a steak about now. A good, _rare_ steak...” Fucked-up? Well, compared to what he was doing... 

...Yeah, pretty goddamn fucked-up. And then he's done, and he gets up... And Loki gets up, and he's fine again, that's how his magic works. And he's like, “You were acceptable, Tony.”

And Tony's like, “You want some lunch?”

And they go out. And they order. ...But you know, when the food comes, he can't eat it. He can't eat a bite, and he knows why, and Loki knows why. And the worst part is the smile he sees on Loki's face, when he looks at him.


	5. Two Loki's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one that Doom controls, and the one over whom neither he, nor anybody (possibly including Loki himself) has no control whatsoever.

Loki does not, he can not, realize how much he has revealed of himself, with the tissue samples he gave Doom. The so-secret, “true Frost Giant form,” that he hides with such care, is there, highlighted, for all to see. Near half birth-size now, the fetus curls inside a 10-liter tube in the laboratory, blue-skinned, bony-looking, sleeping, in the placental soup Doom has provided for it. It is rather beautiful, albeit, om a way wholly, and completely alien from anything one would call “human”. 

The fetus is, in its way, a reflection of its progenitor. Loki's Asgardian form is near-human in appearance, but that serves only to mask the truly alien nature of his character. It is his objectives that are alien. He wants... But what does he want? ...What does he truly want?

He claims to seek the destruction of his “brother”, of Thor, next in line for the throne of Asgard. But with what purpose, for he also claims to despise that realm, and all the denizens of it? Perhaps he wishes to destroy Asgard? But since he also claims to despise all others of what he calls the “Nine Realms,” if that is the case, where is he planning to reside, once Asgard is gone? What self-destructive craving lies at the heart of this, and is it rooted in Loki's past, raised as he was, by those who despised his true nature, or is it, instead, innate? Can Loki ever, Doom wonders sometimes, be wholly true to himself if he is _not_ destroying?

Then too, what of Stark? The man's destruction in no way serves any of Loki's stated objectives. Why then, pursue it, and with such single-minded fervor? What is Stark to Loki? What is he to Stark? What is the satisfaction that there will be, Doom wonders, when Loki has made a ruin of the pathetic man, and moves on to other prey?

And, wondering, he turns again to his tiny proto-Loki, curled quietly, in pre-infant slumber. Its back turned to him, its eyes... – They are _red_ , those eyes; is this also the color of Loki's eyes, in his true form? – ...Its eyes closed, and its head is ducked close to its chest, the twin horns sprouting from its forehead, almost touching its chest. This, at least, is a Loki fully under his control. 

Can anyone however, Doom muses, as he turns off the lights, shuts the door to his laboratory, and returns up the stairs to his living quarters, Loki awaits... Can even he, Lord of Latveria, Master that he is, of all things scientific or magical, that exist in this earth, truly pretend any real control over his guest?

And he enters the room. And his guest looks up. “Victor...” That voice of his, the sweet tones of it, the pretended concern. “You seem tired,” Loki murmurs. “Come,” and he pats the sofa next to him. “Sit here, with me.”

And his smile is friendly, and his green eyes are wide and reasonable. ..And his body is warm, and so very, very fragrant. And Doom must sit somewhere. It is natural, familiar from repetition, to remove his gauntlet as he sits, so that he may feel Loki's hair and smooth skin under his fingers. 

“How goeth things in the laboratory, Victor?” Is that concern, or interest in his voice? It is feigned.

And the answer, non-committal in the extreme: “Your DNA develops predictably, Loki. Perhaps, after all, our species are not so different.”

And the soft contempt in the Trickster's laugh. “Speaketh one whose species shares 94% of its DNA with a piece of fruit.”

Doom gave him that statistic. The fruit in question is a banana. They were eating a dish of them at the time, and Doom made the comment. ...Which Loki has interpreted, of course, to his own aggrandizement.

And his hand is tangled in the Trickster's soft hair. And he can smell the fragrance of dinner, coming from the kitchen. Doom murmurs light response: “Speaks the one who is called a monster, on his world.”

But if he thinks to elicit reaction, he is unsuccessful. Loki laughs. “Victor, you are cleverer than any of your species.”

“Except Stark?” Doom grasps... For understanding? For momentary advantage, merely?

Loki reaches a languid hand, presses the button to summon the Doom-bot who brings the wine. “Victor, what do you think I will tell you?”

Not the truth, certainly. Doom pours. Latverian Tokay for both, with dinner soon to follow. Although if Loki wishes to seduce him first, he is amenable.

“How are things with our hapless billionaire?” He raises his glass. Loki, his smile amused, touches his own to it, then drinks.  
“You remember what I said I would do next?” Loki's voice is casual, playful almost. “It was done today.”

Doom remembers the details of this plan. They are disgusting. Not for the first time, he is glad of the mask that hides his thoughts. His own voice similarly casual, he responds. “Show me the results.”

Loki laughs, a ripple of pure amusement. “On my own body? Really Victor, do you think there are any?” As he speaks though, he rises. The Trickster misses no chance to show his Asgardian disguise in its fullness. He slips out of the bearskin robe, turns, so that Doom may see all of him; he is unblemished, perfect as ever. “Please tell me you understand how magic interacts with dream, to give Stark what he thinks I am giving?”

Doom understands. Certainly he understands. Such simple workings of magic as this are not beyond one such as he. Undeniable however, the sight of Loki unclothed is pleasing. And there is mystery here, that intrigues.

Teasing voice of the Trickster: “Would you like to try what he tried?”

Doom's gorge does _not_ rise. Doom is not fooled by such simple manipulation as this. “When you are so pretty in one piece, Loki? When I can look upon disfigurations any time I want to, in my own mirror?” He rises. Dinner is near ready, and one should move into the dining room. “Clothe yourself. We will dine. If you wish meat with your meal, I am quite sure some will be provided.”

The Trickster bends. – The ripple of muscle, under his smooth, white skin. The interplay of joint, and tissue, and sinew: And all this is a lie, and how does his real form move? Doom will find out in due time, when the clone is ready, and yet another secret of the Trickster's will be his. – The robe is in his hand, and he gives Doom a look. “Certainly, it would not do that I allow your iron servants see me unclothed. They would get ideas above their station.” 

Their _station_... And what “station” does Loki claim for himself? And to what “station” would he ascribe his host? And Loki reassumes the robe, and he puts out a hand for Doom to take. And he smiles, and Doom, god help him, smiles back at him. “Come to dinner, Victor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's comic book canon that gives clone-Loki horns, but it is canon, and someplace in my comics collection I have a very lovely picture of Doom's little cloned God of Mischief, curled in its placental soup, and with the horns clearly visible. _Latverian Prometheus_ , I think it's in that story... Or someplace in the lead-up to the Siege Arc, anyhow.


	6. ...And Two Tonys?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one that... ~~That wants to do what Loki's suggested...~~ , and the one who knows there's no way, no way he can ever...

And okay, so yeah: Trouble in paradise. This is the story of trouble in paradise. Really, really _bad_ trouble, in a really, really fucked-up paradise. Fucked-up paradise where... Where he...

Why does it keep being so hard even to think about it? He can _do_ it, all right. Hell, he _does_ it, every fuckin' chance he gets, and he _thinks about it_ , all the time he's not doing it any more. So talking about it's different? Different how? Different why?

Talking about it, yeah... Putting it into words... And you know words have never been what he was really good at. You can ask anybody... Hell, ask Pepper, she'll tell you: Get Tony Stark talking, it's going to be about two seconds before he puts his foot in his mouth, and fucks up everything.

...You don't actually _notice_ Prozac when you're taking it. It's just this weird feeling in your hands, like they're less sensitive or something. Plays hell with your working ~~(would if he were still _doing_ any work, anyway)~~. Makes it hard to get the welding flame to go just where you want it. Tony's read all the websites. There's a crap-ton of them, they all have these long lists of the side effects to watch out for. Sleep problems: Yeah, he's been having those ~~(lying awake for hours and hours, mostly, wishing Loki was here _right now_ , and they were ... _you know_ )~~. Decreased sex drive? Nope, no sign of that one, not yet, thank god. And changes in appetite? ~~Like, being hungry for nothing but the taste of Asgardian god, raw and ripped apart, does that count?~~ ...Oh god, oh christ, let's not talk about that one, okay?

...Yeah, so the Prozac doesn't make much of a difference. And the Abilify? Ditto. Ditto-ditto the Ambien (only it lies, it doesn't make him sleep. At all). Attivan, he mostly notices because it always knocks him the fuck out, whenever he takes one. Attivan's migrated to the back of the medicine cabinet. And Pep finds it, and she's like, “Doc said you should take this for _anxiety_ , you still seem to be feeling a lot of _anxiety_ , Tony.”

And he's like, “You don't know what I know about anxiety, Pepper ~~(and I don't ever want you to find out)~~.”

Finding out: Yeah. See, that's the point. Finding out. As in, Loki comes to him. Loki shows up, and it's like, 8:00? 9:00 maybe? Loki shows up, like, poof, down in his workroom, where the sheets haven't been changed yet since yesterday, and they're all blood-dried and smelling like hell, and shit.

He's like, “ _Tony_.” He's all, “Tony, what has happened to you? You can't even be bothered to get this godforsaken place _ready_ for me?”

And Tony's like, “Sorry.” He's like, “I know where Pepper keeps the sheets. I could...”

Loki says, “Never mind.” Loki waves a hand. Sheets are brand-new and pretty. Asgardian sheets. – Asgardian _blood-proof_ sheets? – Loki's like, “You disappoint.” He's like, “Come over here, lie down, let me see...” ~~Let me see what's left of you.~~ Where the fuck did that just come from? Loki's like, “I want to see you unclothed, I want to see...” ~~Want to see my _property_.~~

Tony's out of his clothes, and he's lying there, and Loki looks at him. And he's like, “So _thin_...” And his hands... His fingers, where Tony's stomach goes in, where his bone... – What do you call that bone? Pelvic bone? – Where his pelvic bone has to come up, and there's his dick under that. “You'd scarce make a good meal any more,” Loki says, and, “Why so _thin_ , my sweet little...” ~~Sweet little _victim_.~~

Tony's like, “Take me.” He's like, “Fuck me Loki, fuck me hard...” No, he's like, “Well I won't be thin... Won't be thin after we do... Do what we always do, right? We are going to do it?”

Every time he comes... You know, every time, he's always sure it's the last time, he's not going to come again. That would be the ultimate, wouldn't it? Like, that would be the ultimate revenge, would be to get him wanting it _this much_ , then just take it the fuck away.

Loki's like, “Oh Tony, of course.” He's like, “Of course I shall let you... You shall have what you want, my precious...” ~~My precious baby, my victim, my... My _own_.~~

Loki's like, “Here, take me,” and Tony does. He does, god help him, and all the _blood_ , and the _taste_ of him, taste in his mouth... And his stomach, his swelled stomach, and what's in it, and the reason why it's swelled.

And Loki's lying there, and his bones... And his _bones_ , peeking white through the blood from the wounds Tony's made. And his face... One cheek gone. Big piece of his lip... And he's smiling. He's looking up at Tony and he's smiling. He's like, “You do satisfy. You satisfy so.”

And his _arms_... – Bone-arms, blood-arms... – His arms, around Tony's neck. And his ruined mouth, and they're kissing, and then Loki looks at him again.

“Do you tire?” he says, “of doing the same thing? Tony, do you ever tire?”

No.

“Does it leave you wanting,” he says, “does it leave you wanting? Because oh Tony, I so want to take _the next step_.”

And the next step. The _next step_...

No. He does _not_. Want. To take the _next step_.

“No,” he says, “not...” Can't say the name. “...Not...” Can't say the gender, can't even refer to... ~~_To her... To Pepper..._~~

Funny. The things you think sometimes are really funny. He's got his mind wrapped around her name, the first thing he thinks is, “Well, it's the name of a _food_ , right? Like peppercorns? Like red pepper?” And she's his red pepper. He's called her “red”. Cute name, for a cute girl, but yeah, it's a food-name, why didn't he ever notice that before?

“What would she taste like?” (Oh, shut up, Loki.) “When will we try?”

And Tony's like, “Never.” He's like, “If that's your game... Is that your game, Loki? Is that why you've been coming?”

Loki's like, “Would you turn me away if it was?”

He's like, “Of course! Of course I would, what the hell do you think?” He's like, “ _Is_ it? _Is_ that why...”

Loki's like, just a laugh... Just a smoky laugh, that comes out all wrong, because of his ruined face. He's like, “Oh, Tony, Tony, oh my precious, my pet, my own...”

He's like, not answering the question. And Tony's like, “You disgust me, don't come back, Loki.”

And he gets up. And right away his body comes right back, it comes back as good as new right away. He's like, smiling. He's running his _hands_ , over his perfect body. He's like, murmuring, he's like, “ _This_? This disgusts you, Tony dear?”

~~(It doesn't.)~~

He's like, “Oh, Tony, Tony... Oh Tony, _of course_ I will go away, if that's what you really want, Tony.”

~~(It isn't)~~

Tony's like, “Yeah.” He's like, “That's what I want. I can't believe you would ask me to do something like that. How could you think... How could you have thought?”

Loki's like, “Okay fine, I'll go.” And he goes.

And Tony doesn't care, he doesn't fuckin' care. He's okay with it ~~(he's not)~~ , he's perfectly fine. How could anyone think he would... To Pepper... To the woman who's never done anything but good to him, who was there to take care of him when nobody else was? It's just disgusting, that's all. It's just completely disgusting, and there's no way he would ever even think about doing it.


	7. And So, Loki Waits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...And, waiting, he occupies much of his host's attention.

Doom's houseguest has been at loose ends, of late. He prowls the Embassy, taking books from the library and discarding them, pestering the Doom-bots with demands at odd hours, and pursuing Doom into his laboratory, there to examine his tools, and make unnecessary comments about his experiments.

“Whence the horns?” He has found Fetal-Loki, and for all the care he could not be bothered to expend on him before, now, apparently, he fascinates. “I have no horns,” Loki says. “Didst not say this was an exact replica, Victor?”

“A clone, yes.” Doom's hand remains steady, as he administers the exact nutrients, in the exact proportions, needed for the babe's development. “Perhaps your horns are hidden, as part of the Asgardian disguise?”

A snort of contempt. “I have seen Frost Giants. They have no horns.”

Doom turns to the temperature controls. He lowers the heat, again; his own needs being human, it is difficult to keep Fetal-Loki's placental home as cool as it ought to be. “It is your Satanic nature perhaps,” he murmurs. “You are hardly a run-of-the-mill Frost Giant.”

A laugh, pleased-sounding. Idle or no, Loki's vanity remains. “What will you do with your monster, pray?” Loki's hands wander: A beaker tinkles with a jar of nitrogen, and another of Vitamin B-12 extract, both verging, too close, to the edge of the counter. “You cannot think such will be of use to you, Victor.”

Can he not? Doom catches the wandering hands, imprisons them both, between his own. He imprisons the body, stiffer than usual, against his own chest. “Oh really? You think no one could possibly want a Loki of his own to control?”

Doom feels Loki's body relax. Then a laugh. “There is only one Loki. Do you disagree, Victor?”

Oh hardly. Who could disagree with that? Mailed hands catch in the curls of Loki's hair; they block appreciation of the smoothness of his skin. But Doom still has work to do, it is not time to unglove quite yet. “Why so bored today, Loki?” His aroma: Pine and cinnamon-spice, and cool wind over the mountains. But it is a distraction he must avoid for now. “Go play with Stark. Surely there is some aspect of his degradation that needs your attention?”

Loki's fingers find the catch on Doom's right gauntlet. The soft click-click of metal against metal, cool air brushing Doom's bare skin. “There is naught I can do, for a while.” Loki's warm lips on Doom's wrist, his tongue against the pulse-point, and trailing hot fire across his bare palm. “Stark must degrade himself first.”

“Degrade himself how?” Doom pulls away, bends to reach the gauntlet from where it has fallen. 

“As to that, Victor...” – Loki, laughing softly, follows, impeding Doom's movements. There goes the right gauntlet, onto the floor again. All too soon too, follows the left. – And the laugh deepens. “How much do you really want to know?”

Doom wants to know nothing. He cares not, whether or no Anthony Stark is destroyed eventually. Stark means nothing to him, he is merely a technician, a fellow, and inferior, designer of armor. Hearing details of Loki's revenge is disgusting and meaningless, it serves no purpose. Ah, but it is the _telling_ that matters... How it pleases, arouses Loki even, to talk about this.

Doom reaches, fails again, to snatch his gauntlets. He makes a swift glance, checking the time, before resigning himself to the inevitable. Then... Well then, if one is going to give in, best do it with grace, n'est-ce pas? He reaches for the switch, turns off the lights, and then, the room ilumined only by Fetal-Loki's lighted cooling unit, he undoes the catches, and lays his mask aside. His mouth against Loki's both parted, both willing. “Tell me then,” he murmurs. “I can see how eager you are to talk to someone.”

“Not someone...” Loki's lips against Doom's own, ruined lips. His tongue, tracing scars, seamed tissue. “You, Victor.” Loki's hands, in hair still thick and vigorous, but greying now, more and more pale strands among the dark. “I care not for the opinions of others.”

Lies, it is all lies, and flattering manipulations. But of what consist the lies? Is it the honeyed words, that drop so easily from Trickster-lips, or the attentions that go with them, and on which one grows so quickly dependent? Doom's hands tangled in Loki's long, dark hair. His body, still armored, already craves the feel of his flesh. “You were going to tell me something?”

And Loki begins, and his tale plumbs depths beyond what Doom would have thought possible. And during the telling, his voice is laughing, and his body greedy for caresses, all the more so, the more horrible the deeds he is describing. 

“Monstrous...” This is said with a laugh, and right after first mention was made of the woman Stark calls his “girlfriend”. “Ah but Victor, I am a monster, am I not?”

And his own voice, which could be, and has recently been, put to the better work of shouting pleasure: “Are you?”

Vague wave of one Trickster hand, toward Fetal-Loki, curled, sleeping in his jar. Ah yes, the Asgardian prejudice against his kind.

“I am called 'tyrant'.” Doom catches the hand, kisses the plump pad, of each finger in turn. “Doom does not allow such name-calling to influence his behavior.”

“And Loki does.” Holding, nevertheless, his other hand out for kisses. “Give a dog a bad name, they say, and then hang it? I say, that is the difference between a dog, and a man, who will turn, and destroy all those who maligned him.”

“And so you will destroy Stark...” Doom's lips travel further, down Loki's hand, and along his wrist, and up his so-willing arm. 

Loki's other hand, on Doom's head, moving him, moving his mouth, lower. “And so Stark destroys himself.” Doom's mouth, against Trickster-flesh, against his hard flesh... “How is it your people put it? He is _low-hanging fruit_.” Loki's voice, uneven... “The destruction will begin...” His breath catches; that was Doom, ah, it was Doom's influence. “...When I return to Asgard, then the whole world will know what destruction is.” A moan, a pleasured moan.

Doom's voice, brief in the extreme, as his mouth is busy: “And Stark then?”

“He is practice,” Loki murmurs.

And what of Doom, is he practice as well? But he cannot be, can he? For that would imply his destruction as well, and Doom will not be destroyed.


	8. Tony, On the Other Hand, Does NOT Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Tony does NOT want Loki to come back, he so fuckin' _doesn't_ ~~(he does)~~.

So... So, Rhodey, okay? So, like, the best friend a guy could ever have, like, if you need someone who's got your back, someone who cares about you... – ~~Is it wrong that he's started thinking about what he'd taste like?~~ – ...If you need someone who's always _worried_ , and they're never afraid to _tell_ you about it... Someone who thinks they know what's best for you, no matter what, and in every situation... If you need a nag, that's the point here... – ~~Yeah, it's wrong, does he have to even ask? _Of course_ it's wrong, and anyway, Loki would never go for him instead of Pepper.~~ – 

...No, Rhodey's all right. Best friend Tony ever had. They've been friends since... Since when? Since Andover, wasn't it? And Tony was Science track, and Rhodey basically founded the JROTC. – Rot-Sea, he'd say, as in, “Tony, I can't make the party that night, I have to stay late and drill with Rot-Sea.” ...Him and his goddamn Rot-Sea. – Yeah, best friends, friends 'til the end. He's ...maybe ...a little bit of a nag, though. ...Just a little bit. He's not the kind of guy who knows how to give you your privacy, if you know what I mean. He's always got to poke his damn nose into things.

“Oh, Tony... Oh, blah-blah, oh, la-la-la... Tony, I'm so wo-ooo-ooooo-orrr-rrrried about you...” And like that, and like that, and like that. He ...probably shouldn't have agreed to meet him for lunch. He knows what Rhodey's like. – Should, after all these years, anyway. – 

So anyway, they meet at TGI Friday's. – Yeah, right. TGI Friday's. _Exactly_. – So they get this booth. They order. Stacked burgers. ~~And he's thinking, “I'd stack your burger, baby! ...No, no he's not. And anyway, Loki would never go for it. He said it's got to be Pepper, Pepper or no one.~~ ...And he's thinking, “Industrial beer, oh great, and an industrial burger to follow.” But all he says is, “Don't you think we might get recognized?”

Rhodey's like, “Since when has that ever bothered you?” He's like, “Usually you're Mr. Notice-Me, Mr. I-Can't-Get-Enough-Attention.” And then he's out with it. That's when he goes all, “Tony, I'm worried,” on your ass, all, “Oh Tony, you look _terrible_ , and Pepper says you haven't been sleeping.”

Pepper. ~~(Lunch. Loki'd know if he said yes, wouldn't he? He'd be right there.)~~ So yeah, so Pepper's been tattling about him again.

So Rhodey's looking at him, and there must be something on his face, some expression or something, because right away, he's all, “You know, she only does it because she _cares_ about you...”

And he's like, “I _know_ that...” – ~~(Does he?)~~ – He's like, “Listen, I know. Pepper's the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Rhodey's says, “You better believe that.”

And Tony's like, “You like her so much, _you_ date her.” – ~~Maybe a good idea? Because maybe if he was with someone else, it would be _them_ Loki wanted him to... To...~~ – And he sees Rhodey's face, right away he's all, “Sorry, hey, sorry, you know I didn't mean it.” – 

Only maybe he did, you know? Maybe... Listen, it can't be just his imagination: Ever since the first time he saw her, Rhodey's been hot for a little redheaded poontang, hasn't he? He's just been waiting for his first chance to slip a little of the old pepperoni to Pepper... – 

...Okay, yeah, disgusting. And unjustifiable, totally unjustifiable. Can a guy help getting a little _weird_ when he hasn't been sleeping? When he... ~~When it's been a week since Loki was here, a _fuckin' goddam week_... And he hasn't been sleeping, and he hasn't been fuckin' working, and who knows how much longer he's going to have to wait, because there's no way, there's. No. Fuckin'. Way. Fuck you, Loki, you take your goddamn disgusting, murderous ideas, and you shove 'em... Shove 'em in your chest cavity. In with your goddamn organs.~~

...Yeah, well at any rate, at least he didn't say it out loud. Out loud he's still being Mr. Good-Boy, Mr. Credit-to-Stark-International. ...Right?

So here come the stacked burgers, and let me tell you, those things are a _monument_. They are what American Culture is _all about_ : 15 inches of dried-out beef, covered with every ingredient known to mankind, such as bacon, and cheese, two kinds (or maybe it was 20)... Also some _tomatoes_ , and some kind of marmalade, like bacon marmalade maybe... Also a crap-ton of shredded lettuce. You know, even Rhodey couldn't look straight at those things? And he's marching 12 hours a day, most days, if anyone works up an appetite, it's Rhodey.

...So yeah, so here come the burgers. Here come some more beers too, thank god. And Rhodey's still going on and on. “Oh, Tony, I'm _worried,_... Tony I'm so worried. Oh Tony this, oh Tony that, oh Tony, no, I can't get my own goddamn _life_ , thank you very much, and so far I still haven't gotten any of that sweet Pepper poon.”

~~And Jesus, Loki, all right... _All right_ , did you hear me? I'll do it, I'll give you her... I mean, we can take her... You and me, right? That's what you were talking about? ...No, no wait, I'm lying. No, there's no way I'll ever let you at her, I'll ever do _that_... Ever let you do it.~~ Fuck it, Loki, no.

Mr. Tony Stark, folks: Iron Man, genius designer of the Arc Reactor, and military hardware up the ass. Mr. Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, philanthropist. ...Mr. Tony Stark, fuckin' owned by an alien with a hardon for eating people. ...For eating him. ...But he's not letting him get Pepper ~~(he is)~~.


	9. Of Experiments, Possibly of Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temporary failure only, of course. Doom does not fail. And yet success comes less easily, with the Trickster there.

The clean, florescent light in the laboratory is soothing, the only sound, the faint hum of the light-fixtures, the soft bubble-bubble of the containment tank that holds the Loki-Clone. Hand steady, Doom measures the nutrients for the placental fluid. He turns, syringe in hand. The fetus is looking his way. It opens red eyes, seems to seek his gaze. One would almost think it showed need, but that is impossible, surely? This being, though small, is a Loki. Surely it has its progenitor's pride, his fierce self-reliance?

Unbidden, a mailed hand goes up, taps the glass. The clone turns, its red eyes widening for a moment. Whence this emotion that starts? The tenderness? Ridiculous. There is nothing to feel tenderness for, here. There is no cause for possessiveness. This creature will be useful, that is all. Successful, he is a protegee for Doom. Unsuccessful, he is at least a minion, one, probably, more powerful than any who serve him now.

Doom lowers the syringe, infuses the placental fluid with new nutrients. Again, the fetus responds. Its eyes widen, its mouth curves, as if in a smile. Unbidden again, Doom's hand raises. It breaches the liquid, touches the fetus' head, tracing the bumps of its strange bone structure, following the curves of those horns that Loki claims to find so strange.

Behind him, a snort. Contempt, made manifest: Loki's mocking eyes meet Doom's, as he turns. And his cool voice: “My Victor has a fondness for monsters, it seems.”

_My Victor..._ What sick compulsion is it, that makes him note the phrasing?

Doom lifts his hand. – Fetal-Loki seems to move closer, almost not to want his touch to end. It is because he is nearing maturation, surely. It is very normal for babies to behave in ways that will ensure them the care they need. – “Indeed?” he murmurs. “And _my Loki_ has a fondness for self-loathing. It grows tiresome, Trickster.”

The comment seems to draw Loki to his side. ...Seems almost to _compel_ the caresses that follow, the teasing kiss, planted just-so on Doom's mouthpiece, where he will catch the fragrance of Loki's breath. Predictable, no?

There... Doom wastes a moment. He removes his left gauntlet, strokes the beautiful curves of the face so close to his. There... A fumble, a faint click, as he unfastens, removes his mask. He bends, enjoys one brief kiss, bare-faced. But his fetal charge awaits. His duty here is not finished. “Go play with your billionaire,” he tells Loki. “Finish his humiliation. It will put you in a good mood.”

Loki, however, remains. His fingers are at the catches to Doom's armor, at his right wrist, his shoulders, his waist. Apparently Mr. Stark remains recalcitrant.

A quick glance... Was the syringe emptied completely? And his fetal charge, is he asleep again?

And a snort from the Trickster. “Your toy, Victor. It grows tiresome.”

“ _My_ toy.” Ungloved hands on the Trickster's waist... On his pliant waist, the flesh warm under Doom's bare fingers. “What is this, Loki, is it jealousy? My experiment progresses more steadily perhaps, but physiology is always more predictable than psychology. Stark will come around.”

This time the snort is louder. “Pity?” Loki pulls back, stares at him. For a moment, just a moment, there is anger in those green eyes. Doom has affected the Trickster. Then it is gone, and the perfect face is perfect again. And the silky voice. “You are still a mortal Victor, albeit a presumptuous one. Do not condescend to a god.” A glance, a swift, green glance, at the placental tank with the clone in it. “What do you think this little monster will do when it comes out?”

Doom glances. The creature is his, whatever it is. He looks back at Loki. “It is a baby. It will dirty diapers and demand feeding, and mewl at all hours, as all babies do.”

Contemptuous snort. “It is a monster...” And a glance, an evil glance. And then a smile. “Let me...” A hand darts out. Only with a quick snatch, Doom saves the tank from falling. And from Loki, a laugh that sounds of delight, pure and simple. “Daddy loves his Monster-Baby, I see.”

Certainly, as Doom pulls the Trickster close again, he moves as well, trying to position them further from his experiment. Certainly, he angles their bodies so that it is his back nearest the tank. “ _Daddy_ , Loki? And Stark is your own baby, then?”

Soft, Trickster-chuckle. “Stark is a bad baby.” Soft, Trickster-lips, against Doom's exposed throat. Soft, bare arms, against his bare waist. “A naughty baby, and Daddy must not see him until he is being good.” ...And the hands, the soft, soft hands... And where are they going? For what are they reaching so insistently?

Doom's turn saves the tank but narrowly, yet again. His catch, imprisons two Trickster-hands, bent on destruction. “ _Daddy_ Doom has a naughtier baby than the one in the tank, I think, Loki.” ...And a step backward... Are they far enough away to avert disaster? “Naughty babies must be punished.”

And Loki's chuckle, his soft, soft chuckle. And for what? Why does he chuckle?

Two steps across the room, and they are at the cot Doom keeps in the laboratory. And he falls to a seat there, pulling Loki down with him. “A punishment...” And meanwhile his hands still grip the Trickster's, and his mouth... His mouth tastes Trickster-flesh. 

And Loki's murmur, his soft murmur: “What kind of punishment does Daddy have in mind?” Loki lies facedown, in Doom's lap, his stomach, his manhood, warm against Doom's legs. His buttocks curve gently upward, they form an angle that begs to be touched. And he looks upward, and his green eyes are knowing. “You would not _spank_ your bad baby?”

He _would not_ , he never would. Such a thing is undignified in the extreme, it demeans both giver and recipient. And yet... And yet, there goes his hand...

And Doom's arm is raised, and he brings it down. And the sound of flesh against flesh is hard, it is sharp (and he can feel the response, the stirring of his own flesh). And the feel of the impact is painful, but bracing, and when his hand touches Trickster-flesh again, it is warm to the touch. And a second blow follows the first, and then a third follows the second. 

And Loki's laugh is pleased, it is the sound of greedy pleasure. “Bad Baby will learn some respect,” he says... – No, he positively _crows_ it. – “He will know not to be naughty again.”

And there is another blow, and a fourth, and this whole ridiculous travesty has somehow taken on a form that is pleasurable. And perhaps... Maybe Doom begins to understand the appeal of this silly game.

...And that is when the crash comes. That is when he feels Loki's body jerk on top of his, he feels his muscles stiffen, as his leg goes out... That's when Doom sees the tank overset, when he hears the crashing noise as it breaks, and feels the Trickster's arms go around him, suddenly too tight to be resisted.

“There is one Monster that will not survive its birth,” Loki's voice says, very close to his ear. “You can stay here with me... We can _play_ , or I can just hold you here. Once your Monster is past revival, I will release you."

It is an hour before Loki loosens his grip. An hour, and the babe does cry, once the placental fluid is out of its lungs. It cries, struggles a little, very weakly. Then it expires, its lungs, apparently, still not mature enough to breathe on their own. It is already stiffening, when Doom finally gets to it.

“The DNA,” he says... “I will take scrapings and begin again. You cannot really think to stop this experiment so easily, Trickster.” It is a protest, a weak protest. And Doom is not weak.


	10. Failure.  Failure, Failure, Failure (But It's the Bitch's Fault)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can go anywhere, but your fate's always going to follow you. And so's Pepper (goddamn GPS).

Okay, so, Pepper. Pepper Louise Potts ~~(AKA _Pepperoni_ AKA Red-Hot Chili _Pepper_ , AKA Pepper, I'd eat you so _hard_ )~~. Pepper's the reason he's not at the house right now, she's the reason he's got this hotel room.

He's got this _hotel room_ , because of course, the others are at the Tower. The _Avengers_ are there. – ...Not that Loki's ever said anything about him doing ... _you know_ , to them... Not that he'd want to. – But some of them might notice something's wrong. Cap might notice, or maybe Bruce. Or if Coulson is there, he'd definitely notice. Coulson's the one they put on you, if they think you've got a problem. He had Coulson put on him before, when he was doing the new arc reactor for the Mark VI. ...So yeah, so hotel room. So _totally_ hotel room, and maybe Pep won't find him, and he can get this ...this _thing_ out of his system.

...This thing, like an addiction, he can get this addiction out of his system. Think of this as Loki-detox, and the Scotch he bought on his way over, it's like those smoothies you get, those Green-Cleanse Smoothie-things. – ...And, aw, Christ, Dum-E's back at the house. Dum-E, who was okay at making smoothies... You know, there's still a bug in the sensitivity-gauge, that's why he can't tell if the lid's on the blender tight enough. That could be fixed, it could be fixed really easily. One good thing about Dum-E: Loki doesn't want you to ~~...To _eat_ him...~~ ...Loki doesn't want to _you know_ , with him. – 

Loki wants to _you know_ , with Pepper, he wants him to _you know_. That is the one thing Tony's never going to allow, and that's why he's got this hotel room. So, no note, no phone call. So, so long, bitch, can you say, say-yo-nah-rah? Never say Tony Stark never did you a favor, at least he's not letting the crazy carnivore get you, your pretty intestines will be safe. And so what if he is going crazy himself, so what if he's waiting forever, for a visit from Loki that is never going to happen, that's what God made Scotch for, amirite?

...So yeah, so Scotch. Bonded, are you kidding me? This is _bottom shelf_ shit. Seriously, did you know, you can get Scotch at ten bucks a liter? Stuff's brown, like Scotch, it sloshes around when you pick it up, like Scotch... Bottle says it's 80-proof, and that's some serious alcohol, for something that comes in an unbreakable bottle. Stuff comes in plastic, because they know anybody that drinks $10 Scotch is out to get bombed, they're out to get shit-faced wasted. And they're going to drop the bottle sooner or later (even if they're not also taking a million kinds of anti-psychotics like he is).

Tony's actually got a couple of bottles of “Scotch”. This is because he doesn't know how long he's going to have to hole up here for. Tony's staying until he stops thinking... – 

You know, he was going to say, until he stopped thinking about Loki. That's not going to happen. Never going to happen, like how he's _never_ going to give Pep to Loki. Never going to happen, now he just wants to stop thinking, period. – 

Stop thinking. One day, maybe two days. Stop thinking... It's the third day, that Pepper shows up, because brilliant-Tony forgot his damn phone has GPS on it. Damn phone has GPS, damn phone, with a damn _app_ , something called Where's My Friend, and Pepper was all, “Oh Tony, I don't care.” She was all, “Well, it's _cute_ , but I don't care. Heaven knows I've been long enough _not_ knowing where you are, I guess it doesn't matter.” Damn app, and he's thinking about Afghanistan. He's thinking about Tennessee, and how hard was it to get a call through to Pep? And what if she'd had an app, at least she'd have known where he fuckin' _was_.

Dumbass Tony puts this fuckin' _app_ on his phone, and now here comes Pepper, like little Red Riding-Hood, walking right up to the Wolf's front door. Red Riding-Hood-Pepper, and she's all, “Ooh, Gwandma! What a big _Scotch bottle_ you have, Gwandma!”

Gwandma Wolf-Tony's like, “If you want to call this shit Scotch.” He's like, “You want a drink, because I'm having some,” and he, like, pours. He fills one of those weird-ass plastic glasses they always give you in hotel rooms. Then he pours one for Pepper, and she's like, “Ooh, Gwandma, isn't that shit contraindicated with your medications?”

_Contraindicated._ Aww, Pepper, you slay me ~~(only you won't be the one doing the _slaying_ )~~. Pepper, do you really think that's the worst thing we have to worry about?

And he _may_ have been drinking a little already.. – Okay, yeah, he has. Seriously, folks, how the hell else are you supposed to deal with the fact that you want to give your girlfriend over to a... To something as fucked-up as what Loki has planned ~~(what you want to do)~~ without having a belt or two or three? ...Okay, so yeah, so the level on the first plastic bottle of simu-Scotch is maybe a little bit lowered (like maybe a lot-bit). Okay, yeah, he might be a little _impaired_ here, that's what we're trying to say.

He's like, “Pepper, honey, just go the fuck away.”

She's, like, got his glass... She's got his glass, that's somehow empty of “Scotch” again (and not because she drank it). She puts it on the table or something, anyway, it's there in her hand one minute, the next minute it isn't. Her hand's on his head, like those soft little fingers of hers, are running through his hair, and she's like, “Aww, Tony...” She's like, “Tony, what's wrong? Jim said there was something wrong, but he wouldn't say what it was.”

(Hopefully, that's because Tony didn't tell him.)

And he's leaning into her touch, and it feels so good, just for a moment it feels so good. He's like, “Pepper, if only I could tell you...”

And she's like, “Oh Tony, don't you know you can tell me anything?” She's like, “Think of all the things we've already shared since we've been together, can this possibly be worse?” And for a moment, he's really going to do it. He's going to tell her, and she'll still love him, and together they'll make it better.

...And then what? And then Loki never comes back again, right? Then he never sees him again, never does ...what they do together... What they've done together... 

Pepperoni Potts is like, “Oh, Tony, Tony, you can tell me.” She's like, “Ooh, Gwandma, what big _teeth_ you have, Gwandma!”

And Tony's like, “The better to _eat_ you with...” He's like, “Pepper, didn't I warn you? Get the fuck out of here, now.”

And guess what, here's some news: Bitch doesn't go. Bitch doesn't go, sometimes there is no cure for dumb. Big Bad Wolf looks at her, and she's still there. She's still got the same goofy, “Poor Tony,” look on her face, too. Phone call over to Loki... – Phone call, yeah. Loki's ring tone is “Mack the Knife,” by the way. _He_ picked it. – Tony's like, “You still want her?” 

Loki's like, “Oh Tony, it has never been about what I wanted. _What do you want_?”


	11. What You Might Call a Culmination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Time for some Pepper-Steak._

Pepper's got blue eyes. She's got this long, red hair... Kind of wavy, like this long, red, kind of wavy hair. (She straightens it before she goes in to the office in the morning.) Bitch has got this _mouth_ that won't quit. Hungry mouth, like this hot, hot, hungry mouth. Bitch's mouth is like a foretaste of what you get when you fuck her... And you haven't lived until you've had her blow you. It's like going to Heaven while you're on the world's best acid trip.

And she's right here. She's lying right here on the bed. And of course he had to tie her. _Had_ to tie her to get her to stay there. And the duct tape's so no one will hear her scream. Kind of a shame, having to block off that talented mouth of hers, but ...But you know. It's not like she'd have let him have any right now anyway, not now that she knows what's coming. And Tony doesn't look in her eyes. Nothing in those eyes he wants to see, just ...fuck all, just nothing. 

And he was like, “Pepper, I'm sorry.” He was all, “I told you to leave, goddammit Pepper, why didn't you the fuck leave?”

And she's like, “Tony?” She's like, “ _What_?”

Oh Pepper girl, you don't want to ask that. But she asked it, and he told her. She was like, “ _Wha_?” Like, she was all, “Huh? _Loki_?” Like, “Oh my god, Mr. Stark, you mean that awful man with the _sceptre_ that killed all those people in Stuttgart? You mean _that_ Loki?”

...No, she didn't say that. Seriously, she was right up to the edge of saying that, but she never did, she stopped right at the edge. And he stopped at the edge of saying, “No, Pep, I mean the leprechaun on the cereal box. You know, Mr. Loki Charms?” That would have given everyone a good laugh. Would have been all ha-ha, and all ho-ho, hee-hee. Would have been _funny_.

This that's happening now? This isn't funny. See the problem is, Loki's not here yet. It's like he doesn't think Tony's serious. ...Like he wants him to start without him, like Tony's got to _prove_ something (his worthiness or something), before he'll condescend to appear. And you know, it was one thing when it was going to be Loki starting it? Whole 'nother ball of wax when Tony has to start this thing on his own.

Okay, maybe he really isn't serious...

And now he looks down into Pepper's eyes. And her eyes are glowing like blue coals. It's like Extremis-all-over-again, like there's this blue, blue _fire_ , that's shooting out of there... Like she's trying to burn him, trying to get revenge before he's even done anything.

And all he wants to say is, “Sorry, Pepper.” He wants to say, “Sorry, Pepper, I'm sorry. ~~(But there's also a big part of him that wants to say, “Shut the fuck _up_. Just shut your fuckin' fuck-hole, I've got _things_ to do, bitch.”)~~

...I've got fuckin' things to do. And where is Loki? Just where the fuck is he? He's never _not_ been here before. And does he want Tony to wait for him? He does, right? I mean, doesn't he usually want the first bite?

And Pepper's looking up. She keeps looking up. And there's blue fire shooting out of her eyes, and if you look close, you can see she's saying something. Saying, “Tony, I never trusted you, never believed in you. Tony, I always knew you'd fuck me over, knew there was no way you could do right, no way you could keep anything pure.”

And this shriveled part of him goes, “Aww, Pep...” Shriveled part, that's getting littler and littler, goes, “Aww, Pepper, forgive me, just forgive me, all right?”

And then there's the big part, and it says, “Fuck that. You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Fred.”

You know, it's true what they say: Every part of your life has a soundtrack. He takes out the knife (the knife he always uses with Loki), and this song starts playing in his head: “What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more.” This echoey, disco-ey song, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, uh huh, uh huh, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, uh huh, uh huh...” – Yeah, apparently eating your girlfriend is best when you do it to Eurodance. – ...So this song's in his head, it's in his head so bad he's almost tempted to find it on iTunes and play it while he does the deed.

...Almost. The sooner he starts this, the sooner Loki is going to know he's serious. Sooner he knows he's serious, the sooner he gets here. Haddaway is going to have to wait. Sorry man, but if it's any consolation, you've already been waiting for 20 years.

So, take out the knife. Test the thing, like first you test it with your thumb...

Knife's kind of dull. Get out the sharpening blade. Loki made you get one, said you couldn't cut through... Said you needed it to cut through... _Through bone._ ...Said you couldn't do this job properly, you didn't take proper care of your utensils.

_And now he needs a utensil for Pepper._ ...So, sharpen the knife. Give it a good sharpening, like, don't let up on that thing until it'll cut through to bone the first time you touch it. ...Practically, like it'll cut to bone _practically_ the first time you touch it. Because you cut too deep, and you're not going to be able to bandage it, and believe me, you can't do this job if you're bleeding all over the place. ...So yeah, first you get the knife. You get it real sharp, test it on your own thumb to make sure it's ready.

...Then you put like a whole box of Band-Aids onto where you cut yourself. – Look, Pep, it's not just you that's hurting here. Believe me babe, I'm _bleeding_ for you. – Put those suckers on until the blood stops coming out, and then you're ready for the main course.

_Ready for a little Pepper-Steak._

And you look at her. Last good look you're going to have for a while. Loki better get here soon, and he'd better be cool about putting Pep back the way she was, when this is over.

...All right, no time for any worrying here. Time for some _Steak au Poivre_. Like, you know how she got her nickname? It was the freckles. Apparently she had a crap-ton of them when she was a kid. There are some still there. First time he fucked her, that was the first thing he noticed: Like, he's kissing his way down her back, like her bare back. Gets to that cute little ass of hers, and she's got these _freckles_ on there. Like, these cute, golden freckles. There are seven of them, and he kissed them, one, two, three, four five, six, seven. And he's like, “I thought you only got freckles from the sun, Ms. Potts.”

And she's like, “You ever seen me when I sunbathe, Mr. Stark?”

Get those freckles out here, girl. Those seven golden peppercorns of yours, get 'em out of here. Tony's looking for some _rump_ roast, with a little pepper on top!

First cut, she starts bucking. By the second or third, she's lying still. He eats in big bites, eats like he... ~~Like he still believes Loki's coming...~~ ...He eats like he's starving, like he hasn't seen food in weeks. And he hasn't, if you think about it, it's been weeks since he had the kind of food Loki taught him to like.

And Loki will be here soon. He'll be here to share the Pepper Steak, here to clean her back up afterward.

He'll be here. And meanwhile, Pep's not moving, and Tony? He's starting to get a little full.

And Loki _is_ going to be here. He's definitely going to be here soon.


	12. Success Will Come Easily, When the Trickster Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you speak of culminations? You are premature. Doom's experimentation has yet to bear fruit again, but it is early days.

Spent scrapings of DNA, test tubes of matter, not immediately successful, kept refrigerated, on the off-chance that further research might be of value. Thus far, the results of his initial experimentation have been irreproduceable, but it is early days yet, and Doom is patient. Time narrows, anyhow, before Loki's inevitable return. He left... It was a day ago, was it not? Two, perhaps, at the most? Doom is the first to admit, he can lose track of time while working, but he recalls the Trickster's departure well enough.

Upstairs, after working: Loki sits curled on the sofa, with a cup cradled in his hands. His fleering smile. “Good morning, sunshine.”

An Americanism. Doom crosses to the kitchen, finds coffee left in the pot. He pours, turns to his impudent houseguest. “American vernacular suggests Stark. Has your 'baby' finally decided to cooperate?”

And the gurgle of Trickster-laughter. “Things are moving on that front, yes. – Oh, Victor...” Uncoiling of the long, Trickster-limbs, a lithe body, covered (barely) with one of Doom's bearskin blankets. And the soft caress (that he cannot feel), against Doom's masked cheek. And the coo of his voice. “You have been invaluable. How I do wish I could take you with me to see this.”

_To see this..._ The product of his experimentation. Doom has heard enough of Loki's experiment; he is not sorry he won't be there to see it.

And yet, to appear squeamish? Unthinkable. And his own low murmur. “You cannot transport two? Is your magic so weak then?”

Another chuckle. “I do love to match wits with you, Victor.” And a caress, and, after the clasps have been undone, Doom's mask discarded, a kiss. “Dare I hope you've forgiven me?”

_Forgiven..._ Scarce days then, since Loki's wanton destruction of Doom's last experiment. The fetal-Loki, so perfectly formed, so close to maturation. To have held it just once, to have been able to look into its red eyes... 

One has one's dignity, however. One has pride... “Forgiveness is irrelevant. You have done nothing Doom cannot undo.” 

Soft purring murmur, “Hmm?” Fingers, that caress Doom's bare face. “Words do not express my appreciation, Victor.” And a kiss... And the bearskin falls to the floor.

Mailed hands are unsuited to intimacy; Doom slides his gloves off, first the left, then the right. He runs newly-bared hands across Loki's shoulders. A thought... His hands touch Trickster-flesh, and a thought flashes through his mind or, perhaps, more of an emotion: The fetal-Loki, who would have been an infant now, is dead; he is dead, because of _him_.

But Doom can spawn a new one. And he will do, and furthermore, though one keeps one's friends close, one should keep enemies closer. Loki is very close now, and he turns. Flash of his smile, light of excitement in his green eyes. “Best of mortal allies. _My_ Victor...”

_Yours? Pity the being of any realm, who belongs to you, Loki._ Doom is his own man, and he takes only what he wants to take from the Trickster. And lips against lips: Loki's are warm, and taste of the coffee he was drinking. Doom's ...most likely taste of metal. And Loki's hands, his ingenious hands, and one by one, the clasps unfasten, and Doom's armor falls away. Hands go where they were not before, and mouths become eager. 

Passion is a transitory emotion, but so strong, so very strong while one feels it. And the sofa has been host to more than one scene like this, and the bearskins are soft against their bare bodies. ...And it has been so many hours, now, since Doom slept.

And he wakes to an empty house, Loki's empty cup cleared away, the extras of the bearskins folded and put away, and the coffee pot washed and readied for its next use (his Doom-bots are nothing, if not efficient). And his armor is laid close-by, convenient for reassumption.

No word from the Trickster, but Doom does not expect one. Always, they have gone and come at their own convenience; they have their purposes, and these intersect less often than not. Doom initiates the start-sequence on food and coffee. He showers, returns to work.

At that point, there are still many samples left, but days go by, and there are fewer. Gone the test tubes, refrigerated, after his first success reached embryonic stage. Seeming at first viable, they have since proven fruitless, almost as if there were no DNA there in them. Gone too, the frozen samples. Undaunted, Doom searches. There are traces still, remnants of Loki still to be found around the Embassy,some of which must, surely, contain viable DNA. None thus far, have proven productive, true, but it is early days. Loki has been gone two, perhaps three days (a week at most). He will, moreover, return, and more samples can be taken.

And Loki has left hairs, tangled in the carpets, and twisted through the fibers of the bearskin blankets. And he has left behind his toothbrush, his nail clippings, his used dental floss. And Doom has not cultured all he has found, yet, nor has he begun microscopic search for dead skin cells. Doom will persevere, he will be successful. It is impossible that there should be _no_ traces of the Asgardian's DNA left, anyplace in the Embassy. Only, perhaps, there are none, because Loki destroyed them...

But he did not, he could not have done. Why would he have done such a thing? Doom is an _ally_ , he has earned the respect Loki gives him. ...That he _said_ he gives him... Doubt is, furthermore, unproductive. Better he gives his mind to work.


	13. Another Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has stolen much. In the aftermath of his departure, Doom seeks out one from whom he has also stolen.

“High-price nut-house. Arkham Asylum, for the billionaire set.” The man on the bed, barely recognizable as Anthony Stark, Loki's “baby”. Forty pounds, added to a frame too small for them, a face, at once lined and puffy, eyes that look dead. He sits on the bed, in this sparse room his money has bought for him. He does not look at Doom. “Did you say why you were here, Doom-y?” A faint smile, a quirk of lips, barely a light in his eyes, and then all is blank again. “Don't tell me Reed finally got you put away?”

 _Put away..._ Why is he here? What can he gain by visiting this wreck of a man? Once a stranger, doubt has become his companion of late, and Doom no longer questions. 

His own seat, the straight-backed chair, brought from another room for him by Stark's attendant. – And her warning: “Be sure not to leave it in there.” The fools who staff this place, do they truly feel a threat from the robotic Stark? – And Doom's voice, not un-compassionate: “I understood your stay was voluntary.”

A short laugh. “Voluntary as in I had to do it.” Staccato words: “Dad built the company, I'm not going to be the one to fuck it up. Pepper...” He breaks off, his face twists. It has the look of icebergs, slowly shifting under frozen water, barely visible, due to the drugs he has been given, but Doom's eye is keen. 

Pepper, yes. That is the name of his woman, the one Loki was so determined that he savage. - Doom has read the newspapers: She survived. She will live a normal life, will look almost like herself again, after the reconstructive surgeries are finished. The only loss she has sustained from this thing, is a small amount of personal beauty. And beauty is a trivial thing, Doom knows that from experience. - She will not see Stark. She will not communicate, Doom hears, even by letter. 

“Of course I understand.” Stark, for his part, speaks with the complete self-absorbtion of the sick. “After what I did to her. I was insane. I don't know why...”

And Doom's voice, low, his words, forced out: “Yes you do.”

Stark looks at him. And there is, perhaps, a light in those dull eyes. “Loki.”

And Doom's words, words that make no sense, but he is used to that now, the clear rationality that used to come so easily, just one of the things the Trickster has stolen: “Why, Stark?”

“Why?” Stark looks at him; he ...seems to understand. “Why what? Why me?” And a shrug. “No idea. Your guess is as good as mine. There were six of us that brought him down. I wasn't even the one that kicked his ass.” And he is looking at Doom. “Why me?” And there is, finally, thought going on behind those brown eyes. “Why not Bruce, if he was going to choose any of us?” And understanding. “What did you say you were doing here?”

What is he doing here? _As to that, Stark, if Doom knew the answer..._

“Joker... _Mad Love_... What is this, like, a villain-recruitment? Because I don't think I have the figure to be Harley Quinn, not any more.”

Stark's pop culture references grate. Albeit, it is helpful to see him thinking clearly again. “Do you always talk this much?”

Bleak look on Stark's face. “Not lately.” And he looks at Doom again. “Listen, why are you here? What do _I_ have that _you_ want? Not that I'm not a perfectly charming companion, even in hospital pajamas and stuffed full of happy pills, but...” Cold look, a voice momentarily steeled: “I don't have control of the company.”

 _What do I have that you want..._ “Doom has no need of your 'company'. – Unless by 'company'...” Doom falters. Words fail. Only since Loki have words, or anything, failed the Lord of Latveria.

And Stark looks at him. “By 'company' what?” And he stares. “You know if you didn't wear that mask all the time, people might be able to figure out what the hell you were thinking.”

There was someone who was able to tell, and now he is gone, and he has taken... What has he taken? Whence this loss, when Doom still has all he had before Loki got here? And one word, that crawls from between scarred lips, from behind an iron mask: “Loki...”

Stark speaks without thinking: “Loki what?” Then he falters, comprehending. “You... And him?” A look, critical, dismissive. “Why _you_?”

And Doom's response: “Why you, for that matter?”

Stark nods. “Good point.” He relaxes a little, in his spot on the narrow bed. “So why were you here again?”

And a confession: _Why_ a confession? And why to _him_? Oh Loki, was it when you left, that Doom stopped making sense? “There is a saying, misery loves company. I wanted to see the other man who interested the Trickster enough that he made him a victim.”

“And now that you've seen him, you go?” 

Yes. Yes, by Saint Sarah, and all the gods Doom serves (which is no gods, Doom serves only Doom). Yes, he will turn now, and leave this shattered wreck, that Loki has made, of what was once a scientist close to Doom himself in brilliance. And he will leave...

But Doom does not leave. “Come stay with me in Latveria,” he says, the offer made on impulse. – And when, has the Lord of Latveria acted on impulse? His forethoughtful nature too, has been stolen by Loki. – “I have the resources to heal you, and there is much that we can talk about.”

And Stark glances at the door. “You've cleared it with Nurse Ratched up front?”

Doom is Doom, he does not need authorization. “It will not be a problem.”

“No, I guess not.” Stark stands. “Just don't blow anything up on our way out.”

Their departure: “Voluntary commitment. He can leave any time.”

“But why? To where?”

And their return to Latveria, where the psychiatric facilities are, as he assured the fools at the hospital so many times, world-class. But Stark's destination, instead, is Doom's castle.

And his place there. And Doom's provisions for his comfort. And, a day after leaving New York, he already looks brighter, and he settles comfortably on the sofa (albeit without Loki's catlike grace). “So, what next?”

Doom fills their glasses (fruit juice for his guest, no alcohol until he has been weaned from the chemical cocktail his captors prescribed). “Now we talk about our revenge.”

And Stark's smile. – His smile, alive again; that is to Doom's credit. – “I like the way you think, Victor.”


End file.
